And For Some Life is Only Ordinary
by luvscharlie
Summary: Petunia Evans longs to be wanted. But for her, life's box of chocolates holds nothing exquisite. She doesn't get the fairytale. Sirius/Petunia, Vernon/Petunia, James/Lily


And For Some, Life is Only Ordinary (or, why Petunia chose Vernon) by Luvscharlie

* * *

Warnings: Sexual situation, angst (OMG, the angst!), a character you probably won't relate to (though I kind of did), and an ending which will probably make you unhappy. While I don't abide all Petunia's decisions, and abhor the way she treated Harry, I do understand what she must have felt like as a girl, and for that, my heart breaks a little for her.

A/N: Originally written for the 2010 Grab-a-Prompt fest at hp_canon_fest where my prompt was "Underneath every cynic is a bruised romantic."

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* * *

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"Underneath every cynic is a bruised romantic."

* * *

Looking at my husband now, I guess I understand why some people wonder what it was that I saw in him. Oh, my parents certainly wondered. I'm sure there were numerous talks _always_ behind my back about how poor Petunia had gone round the bend to be marrying a man like _that_. Not even handsome. Of course, he has a stable job and he'll probably be a good provider, and she's not our pride and joy, so it's not like we much care anyway.

Well you know what? I didn't really give a shite what my parents thought about my Vernon.

Yeah, I know. A lie. A complete and total lie. I cared—cared very much, in fact. But they would never understand. Vernon is safe. Vernon would never hurt me. Vernon won't leave. He has no better prospects if he leaves me. I figure (and so does he, I think) that I'm simply the best he can do. Vernon is the exact opposite of everything I ever wanted when I was but a foolish child. Of course all of that was Lily's fault as well. It's always Lily's fault. If she'd been a good sister, perhaps my life would have turned out differently.

I've never been anything like Lily. I can't be like her—carefree, with the ability to shirk my responsibilities without a second thought. 'Cause that's what she did. Went away to that ridiculous school and forgot that the rest of us even existed.

And then, there was that summer when she tried to corrupt me as well...

* * *

We were waiting for Lily when she came back through the barrier at King's Cross Station with _him_ attached to her hand. He was handsome, no doubt, his black mess of hair sticking up in a roguishly dashing way, and his glasses set slightly askew upon his perfectly shaped nose. He was rather tall, with a fit build, and watching my mum's face when she saw them together, her precious daughter and this handsome young man, well, it made me want to vomit.

"Mum, Dad," Lily said, rushing forward with _him_ holding tightly to her fingers. I wondered what it felt like to touch his fingers, to have my hand held tightly in the strong hand of someone like him, and my envy grew tenfold. "I want you to meet my—erm boyfriend." Lily looked at the boy as though she wasn't sure the title was appropriate, but he smiled at her and, encouraged, she continued. "This is James—James Potter."

And there was probably more conversation, but I never heard it. My eyes caught sight of a dark boy standing just a step or two behind my sister and her adoring boyfriend. He was tall and a bit on the thin side; his hair was dark, as were his eyes, stood there in the shadows. He was on the cusp of manhood, just ready to cross over the threshold, but still retaining a bit of his boyish looks. I think my heart skipped a beat or two when he stepped out from behind Lily's prized boyfriend. He turned to me and smiled, and my heart melted a little, and where before it was missing a few of its beats, now they were pulsing in triple time. He looked around James and winked at me... and my stomach flipped over and I felt warmth flow through me and heat up my cheeks.

The introductions were made with handshakes all around—well, all except for me. I stood off to the side, back away from the group. I knew my place in my family after all. I was Petunia. The quiet, dutiful child—parent-speak for our less than beautiful ("rather plain actually, the poor dear"), totally normal (read: boring) daughter (not our favourite—no, no, not this one).

I never said a word until we were all piling into our old car, Dad lugging Lily's trunk and making jibes about what she might have smuggled away from that school of hers. "Haven't brought us any eye of newt or wings of bat, have you, Lil?"

Lily smiled her effortless and charming smile and without missing a beat replied, "Not this time, Dad. I was only able to smuggle out a few dragon eggs and a couple of rogue Quaffles."

Dad looked quizzically. "Waffles, you say? I wouldn't mind a waffle just right now, actually."

Lily only hugged him, and said, "Oh, silly Daddy."

Dad set down the trunk and looked at it with a raised eyebrow. He pointed as if to ask, "Are the waffles in there?" and Lily laughed, a sound that automatically put a smile on our father's face. His "Little Lily," she could always do that, could always make him smile. Why was it that when a pretty girl laughed it sounded like a well put together melody, while my own laughter sounded something akin to a cat in pain? Lily's laughter brought about smiles; mine made my mother inevitably say, "Oh Petunia, please stop. You're hurting my ears, dear."

Lily and I piled into the backseat and before I knew what was happening, her arms were thrown around me. "Oh, Tuney, I did miss you so!" she said.

And me, well I wanted to have missed her. Really I did. She was my sister after all, and I _loved?_ her. At least I think I did, when I wasn't so busy hating her for being perfect. It was just when Lily was home, the comparison between plain old Petunia and her extraordinary sister—well, they were far too easy to make. At least when Lily was gone away at school, the constant comparisons were muted.

"That boy," I whispered, "the one behind your James. Who was he?" I did my level best to keep from sounding too interested.

"Sirius, you mean?" Lily inquired, looking puzzled. "Didn't I introduce you?" I have to admit Lily did look surprised when she played over the events in her mind. "Oh, I guess I—Tuney, I'm sorry. I was just so excited to be introducing James to Mum and Dad that I-"

I held up my hand and waved off her apologies. We plain girls are accustomed to being ignored by the prettier ones... and sisters were no exception. "So his name is Sirius? What kind of ridiculous name is that?"

Lily muffled her laughter at my question behind her hand.

"Well," I continued, "what does it mean? Seriously deranged? Seriously obnoxious? Seriously a crazed killer? What?"

"I would go with seriously not relationship material," my sister replied.

_Oh, so that's how it was, then._ "I see. One's not enough for you then. You want this one for yourself as well."

Lily's mouth fell open and she gasped. "Whatever are you talking about? Of course, I don't. He's just—Oh, Tuney, James has several other friends—nice friends—that I'd be happy to introduce you to. I mean, Remus has some _problems_ but he's a very nice boy. And there's Peter, and oh, I think you and Peter would get on just splendidly. I mean, he's not very attractive, but-"

I sighed. This was how it always was. Lily was certain I couldn't attract a boy on my own. She'd need to help her poor, plain, pathetic sister, and only the unattractive boy might possibly want to spend time with me. Not one like this Sirius. I understood. In fact, I understood only too well how it was.

"Stay away from Sirius Black," my sister warned. "Trust me. He's trouble. He'll break your heart."

Perhaps I should have listened to her. For once in her life, my sister might have actually been thinking of my best interests. But, I doubt it. She simply wanted to keep me out of her exclusive little world with her better-than-me friends.

Such was my lot in life.

* * *

I spent the next two weeks or so listening to Lily prattle on about her school and her terrific life and her amazing friends and all the freakish things they did during the year when she and I were separated by our oh-so-different lives. And while I tried to be flippant, the fact was that I devoured every word with a desperate longing for an exceptional life—a life so unlike my own—her life. I wanted to be her.

I think maybe we all start out wanting the fantasy; and then life happens and we're forced to accept our place in it. Of course that comes years later for most. It certainly did for me—a girl has to become practical at some point and give up on foolish childhood fantasies, right? Still, for me, that time had not yet come; I still believed in finding the fairytale.

It is quite a disservice we do young girls in leading them to believe their knight in shining armour is out there, if only they look past his flaws, after all he'll change his ways for her, for love, for... _nothing_, ladies. It never happens. But back then, I guess even I held fast to _some_ dreams, too. I was, once, a girl just like any other, so desperate to believe that life was a grand adventure just waiting for me to come and find it.

And find it, I did. Adventures should not be partaken of lightly. They come with consequences, dark and hard and real. And ever so painful. I should never have gone with my freak of a sister that night. Ultimately, as was always the case, my heartbreak could be laid right at Lily's feet.

* * *

I was roused from sleep late in the night, my sister shaking my shoulder and putting her finger to her lips. "Come on, Tuney. Let's go."

"Go? Go where?" I rolled back over and presented Lily with my back. "Get back in your bed, Lily. It's late." Even back then, I was the voice of reason, the sane sister.

There was a sharp hoot from the window that made me sit bolt upright. "What's that?" I shrieked, only to find Lily covering my mouth and shushing me.

"Hush, you're gonna wake Mum and Dad. It's just an owl. Look," she said, holding out a piece of parchment. "James sent this. We've been invited to a party."

"In the middle of the night?" I was astounded. "What kind of people have parties in the middle of the night?"

But Lily never heard me. She was excitedly prattling on about how she just could not wait for me to meet James's friend, Peter, and how certain she was that we would "hit it off." All I could think of was that Sirius Black would probably be there, and I would have the opportunity to see him again.

"I'm only going because I'm a good sister and don't want you going alone," I snapped as my heart flipped over and I contemplated which of my lipsticks would look best.

Lily giggled and threw herself onto my bed and hugged me. "You _are_ a good sister. Such a good sister."

I knew she was only saying it because I was acquiescing to do as she wished, not because she really cared a thing about me. But, I didn't much care. I wasn't doing this for her anyway. It was all about seeing that boy once more. I was convinced that if I could only see him again, then I might be able to get him out of my head.

I could not have been more wrong…

* * *

I wore my best dress. The pink one with the tiny little straps that was almost indecent. I had searched and searched for something that would compliment my colouring and bring out my best features when I'd been asked out by one of the upperclassmen at school for a dance. Of course, that had apparently only been a joke among his mates; asked me on a dare, he did. And I spent the night in my new dress waiting for a date that never came.

But I was a practical girl. Not one to sit around and sulk about things I cannot change. That didn't bother me… not in the least. I'm far stronger than that.

"Come on," Lily whined, tugging me toward the open window of our bedroom. We climbed out the window and crept across the yard, doing our best to keep our heels from sinking down into the mud.

"So what now?" I asked, realising for the first time that we really had no form of transportation.

Lily winked at me, held out her wand and I nearly had a heart attack… and was almost mowed down by a bright purple bus that was clearly being driven by a lunatic. I watched the neighbours' fence jump out of the way in the nick of time, and my mouth fell open when this monstrosity of a machine came to a stop in front of us, and a young woman stepped out and looked around.

"Are you just begging to be expelled, Lily Evans?" the young lady asked. "Or worse even, get me fired or investigated by the Ministry. Do you have any idea how many people want my job? Why that Edna Rathnor is just itching to get her hands on my bus!"

None of this made sense to me, but my sister seemed to understand what this prattling on was about.

"You know it is against regulations to allow a Muggle passage aboard the Knight Bus. I swear, you and James are going to cost me my job if you don't hurry up and age out, so you can pass your Apparition tests and leave me the hell alone."

"Come on, Gwendella," Lily said with a sweet smile. "This is my sister. She'd never tell on you."

The woman stomped her foot and I jumped back away from the scary bus. "No!" she said, attempting what I believed was an abnormally firm resolve, if I was reading her face correctly. "No, not this time. I've carted around some of your Muggle friends before, Lily Evans, and it got me into a cauldron full of trouble, it did. I'm putting my foot down. No more."

I was a bit hurt that Lily had shared this kind of secret with some of her friends, but not me, her sister, when I so wanted to know about this world… whether I showed it or not. I was, apparently, her last option tonight. So she'd asked me to come along after her friends had rejected her. Of course, I had no proof of this, but I believed it to be true.

"Oh, Gwendella," my sister gushed on, starry eyed, "don't you remember that it feels like to be young and in love and…" My sister's voice trailed off; I was no longer listening because it was clear from the look on Gwendella's face that she did, indeed, remember just what being young and in love felt like. She was already stepping aside for us to board, yet another victim of Lily's charms.

It was only further proof of what a pretty face and sweet voice could get a girl in this world… and I guess in that freakish world my sister belonged in as well… anything she wanted was Lily's; she need only to ask for it, then stand back and wait to watch people fall about all over themselves to please her. Oh, what that must be like. Not that I will ever know.

The lady, Gwendella, invited us upon what Lily told me was called the Knight Bus, and we were on our way.

* * *

We arrived after a few near misses with buildings, and more than one shriek from me, at what Lily said was the Potters' house. I tried to maintain my composure on the bus ride, but that's not easy when a tree or house is hurtling at you at breakneck speed. I was sure death was imminent, so I was never so happy to place my feet back on hard, unmoving ground. I tried to control my shaking as Lily stepped forward and rang the bell to announce our entry.

And it was _him_, that mysterious stranger, who answered the bell.

"Hello, Sirius. This is my sister, Petunia. You stay away from her," Lily said, grabbing my arm and pulling me past the object of my desire. "Where's Remus?" she demanded.

"Moony isn't here. It's his time of the month, you see… I think it must be yours as well, judging from your behaviour."

Such talk. What a rude young man! I should be offended rather than intrigued, but the fact was, I was both.

"Peter?" Lily inquired, ignoring the jab.

"Strike two. I'm afraid you'll only have me and James for your entertainment tonight."

I could hear Lily gulp and sigh beside me, and I think she might have even considered leaving if James Potter hadn't chosen that moment to make his appearance. My sister melted like a puddle of goo, when James motioned that she should join him in another room. She swallowed hard, gave Sirius Black a pointed look, and said, "Behave," before she looked anxiously at me, then giggled and went to where James beckoned her.

"I won't be doing anything that you're not doing," Sirius said, quiet enough so that only I could hear him. "So you're Petunia," he said, circling me, the click of his heels on the floor the only other sound in the room. "Lily Evans's sister."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that, so I chose to stay silent.

"I suppose you haven't had the chance to meet many of your sister's friends, what with you being a Muggle and all."

I didn't appreciate the way he said 'Muggle' like it was some sort of filthy word. After all, he was the freak, not I. "My _sister_ doesn't bring many of her friends around me. I prefer not to surround myself with freaks. Well, she brings that one. Severus, I believe his name is. I've met him and find him to be as filthy and freakish as you." I spat the words at him; he deserved no better.

"Whoa-ho-ho," said Sirius. "You can call me a lot of names-" he seemed to think on this a bit before continuing-"and to be fair, most of them would probably be accurate. But never, never, never, compare me with Snivellous. I'm a far better wizard, better person; just all around fun kind of guy, that's me. I choose not to cower in corners and whine like a child. Unlike that nancy boy."

I, personally, hated Lily's friend, Severus, and the way he looked down his hook nose at me simply because I wasn't one of them. So, Sirius Black had just raised himself in my esteem by about a thousand percent.

"My mistake," I said graciously. "It appears you have better taste than I initially believed. Anyone who sees that ridiculous man, with that ridiculous name, and that ridiculous nose as the letch he is—well, you can't be all bad."

Sirius gave me a sweepingly dramatic bow. "It seems that I, too, have misjudged you, Lily's-sister-whose-name-escapes-me. Anyone who dislikes Snape is certainly deserving of a closer look. Perhaps we should start over, you and I. Sirius Black," he said, taking my hand and kissing the back of it like some knight from the days of chivalry and fantasy. "Nice to meet you, madam. Truce?"

"Truce," I said, and then I giggled like one of those air-headed girls I mostly hated. I couldn't stop myself. He was so ridiculously charming. "I'm Petunia. It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Black." And I indulged in a bit of dramatic fancy myself and curtsied before him.

"I rather like you," Sirius said, and I could feel my cheeks heat up, and I hid my giggle behind my hand this time. "Would you like a drink? James's parents weren't smart enough to lock up the alcohol cupboard. Well, maybe they did, but we are the determined sort, James and I. Really, that pitiful excuse for a lock was almost an insult." He gave me a sly wink, and for the first time in my short life I realised what those pretty girls must feel like. He was lavishing me with sly looks and winks and smiles that made my stomach flip over. "You're rather pretty when you smile like that," Sirius said. "You should do it more often. It will make all the blokes swoon."

And that was all it took to win me over; a few well placed compliments and exquisitely timed winks, and I was putty in Sirius Black's beautifully shaped, manly hands. Then, he placed a glass of amber liquid in my hand and called it something strange I'd never heard of like some kind of hot whisky. I can't remember exactly, as I was focusing far more on watching him than listening to what he was saying. I should have paid more attention. It might have saved me a bit of embarrassment. I decided, since I'd never drank a drop of alcohol before, I should just do this like I chose to take my medicine—all in one big swallow.

Erm, mistake. Big, big mistake. It was like drinking liquid fire. It scorched my throat and burned my tongue, and oh the humiliation at how Sirius was laughing at me and slapping me on the back.

"You okay there? What a woman!" he exclaimed. "I've seen grown men who, if they tried that, it would drop them to their knees. And look at you. Just look at you! You're still standing."

One more smack on the back like that, and I was sure I wouldn't be. _Wait, was that praise? If I filtered out the laughter—well, it sort of sounded like he was... well, kind of amazed at me._ And who was I to enlighten him that my bravery was simply stupidity in disguise? I did my best to stop my eyes from watering, coughed until I regained my voice and sat myself primly on the sofa. And then words came out of my mouth that I have no idea from where they originated. "Might I have another?" I asked like a complete idiot.

"Um, I'm not so sure that's a good idea." Sirius tilted his head as though contemplating. Maybe you should wait a bit, and then if you still want..."

His voice trailed off in my head. Bless him for not giving me another drink and meeting my false bravado. I wasn't sure how I would have swallowed a second drink, but pride, it was a strange, strange thing, and knowing myself as I did, I think I would have tried, no matter how much I now knew it would hurt.

Before I was completely over the drinking fire incident, Sirius was sitting beside me on the sofa with his arm thrown over the back.

"So, tell me," he said. "What is it like living an ordinary Muggle life?"

Perhaps he didn't mean it this way, but what I heard in my head was what is it like to be less than your extraordinary sister, Petunia? What's it like to be mediocre? What's it like to be nothing special?

I considered punching him in the nose. In fact, I even balled up my fist and aimed it towards his head. I might have even connected if his head hadn't suddenly split a part and become two fuzzy images and I couldn't decide which one I wanted to hit most.

"Whoa there, bruiser," said both those fuzzy heads. "Just a question. No need to take offense. It's not as though I called you a Mudblood or something. Blimey, why are women always so bloody testy?"

I think the alcohol had given me a bit more nerve than I normally had because words came tumbling out my mouth, and I had very little control over them. "Perhaps we're so testy because you—all men, in fact—are such prats."

Sirius gave a shrug, and suddenly I was again only seeing one of him. "Not the first time I've heard that, sweetheart. Can't really even disagree with you."

And then he was pushing me back into the plush back of the sofa and his lips were moving over mine, kissing me in a most delicious way, and the room was spinning from more than the alcohol I'd consumed.

And it was wonderful.

I tangled my fingers in his lush, dark curls and took note of the way he was kissing me, so that I could attempt to duplicate the moves and reciprocate. It was my first kiss, and I was determined to remember every single detail of what it felt like to have Sirius Black's lips on mine. I was nervous that I would do it wrong, and he would laugh (or worse, talk about my ineptness after I'd gone). But I reciprocated the way his tongue moved against mine, timidly at first and then with a growing confidence.

"You're a very pretty girl," he whispered in my ear, and my heart nearly melted. I'd never been called 'pretty' by anyone in my entire life. Not even my parents. After all, who would think to call me pretty when Lily was around with all of her exquisite beauty? No one. That's who. Well, no one until today.

I kissed him all the harder. And rather than stop him when his hands began to stray to parts of my body previously untouched by anyone but me during a thorough washing up, I didn't make a single attempt, not even a meagre one for propriety's sake, to stop him. I arched my back when he cupped my breast, urging him to continue on. When his hand made its way to my knee, and began to work its way up my thigh, pushing my dress up as it went, I considered stopping him. Something in the back of my head said this wasn't something good, respectable girls did, but I just couldn't make myself form the words. It was like being on a grand adventure, and I had no desire to end it here. I wanted it to go on and on.

When his fingers made their way to the juncture of my thighs, I began to tense up a little. I was sure that no respectable girl would allow a boy she'd only just met to go this far. There was my reputation to think of. I should, no matter how much I didn't want to utter the word, tell him to stop. But then he whispered the words "so very, very pretty" in my ear and it was like my thighs parted of their own accord and beckoned him forth. And I wondered for a moment if girls' thighs often welcomed Sirius Black to come and do things to them they typically wouldn't let other boys do. I thought they just might.

His lips were attached to my neck, his stubble scratchy and wonderful, itching against my skin, and his fingers slid into the side of my knickers and I was rather embarrassed at how wet they were. Sirius didn't seem to mind. That didn't slow him down in the least. In fact, it seemed to encourage him. I wasn't sure why. I'd never allowed any other boy to go this far with me… not that any had tried, mind, but still. Pathetic, that was me. His fingers pushed inside of me, and it was the oddest, though not unpleasant, sensation.

And then my wicked sister, she came and ruined it all…

Lily grabbed Sirius by the hair and began to tug. Judging from the way he screamed, she had a good hold. "You get off my sister, you disgusting pig!" she shouted. Some people (not I) might have even thought she cared. Me, I knew she just wanted to ruin the one good thing I might have found. She wanted to keep her special world all to herself—keep me a constant outsider. No magic—not even the tiniest bit—for plain old normal Petunia. She probably only brought me along at all for fear I'd wake up and notice her bed was empty, then tell Mum and Dad. I can't believe I didn't realise it before.

I ran from the house, totally humiliated and began to walk aimlessly down the sidewalk, not sure where I was going, but wanting to be anywhere my sister wasn't.

* * *

The next day, Lily and I still hadn't spoken, though she'd tried to talk to me over and over again. She'd gone out of her way to tell me Sirius Black was only using me, that he'd not even remember my name today, and that she had only done it for my own good.

I was more and more convinced than ever that Lily had seen me inching into her special world and she was determined to make sure I knew my place. With every uttered syllable, I hated her more.

An owl landed on our windowsill when Lily was washing up, and I went over, using extreme caution as I had a fear of the bird, and removed the parchment from its leg and unrolled it. I read…

_Last night was amazing. You were amazing. Can't wait to see you again._

It was signed something that, if my eyes were not deceiving me, read "Prongs". I'd never heard such a name before, so I could only draw one conclusion. Sirius had sent this for me and used a fictitious name so my sister wouldn't know. It was in code. How romantic was that? I actually had to clutch the windowsill to keep from swooning.

I felt as if my heart had sprouted wings and taken off. I tucked the little piece of parchment beneath my mattress and began to hum as I went about my chores. Someone was anxious to see me. _Me_. Petunia Evans, not Lily. Someone wanted to spend time with me. Not someone dull and mediocre either. Sirius Black could never be described that way. He was dark and dashing, an air of danger swirling about him, and he wanted to see me again.

I don't think my toes touched the ground the remainder of the day. I simply floated about. This must be what it felt like to be loved… and it was indescribable.

* * *

I waited every day that summer for another owl to come, bearing a note from my special someone. But the only owl post we received was a note telling Lily what school supplies would be required for her to start her next year at Hogwarts.

And at night, when Lily was sleeping, I would pull out my prized parchment from beneath my mattress and read it over and over, looking at every swirl in his penmanship and imagining how he must be longing to see me, just as I was to see him. Clearly, he was too worried to write me again, because Lily might intercept the note. He'd obviously sent me this because he simply had to let me know he cared, and because I had been on his mind the next day, just as he was on mine.

I built my fantasy world around him that summer. There really is no way to describe what it feels like to have a secret love. To know that there is someone out there whose heart belongs to you. I dreamed of him nightly, and in my dreams he whispered all the things I longed to hear, and did everything just right. He was kind and charming with a dash of danger about his handsome face. And he was mine. All mine. A secret tucked down into my heart of hearts and just waiting for the right time to burst forth for all the world to see.

* * *

I could not wait for us to finally leave for the train station on September first when Lily was to return to school. I eagerly helped her pack and acted the doting sister asking if she'd forgotten anything. She was surprised, but she seemed happy that I was acting warm towards her. I'd waited for this every day since my last encounter with Sirius. Another chance to meet him, to lay longing eyes upon him. I played the scene over a million times in my head. He'd tell Lily that he didn't want to be apart from me any longer, and he wouldn't let her stand in our way… and he'd kiss me, right there in front of everyone. I'd probably glow from happiness (I've heard that women in love have a glow about them, you know), and people would see that plain old Petunia Evans—well, she was beautiful to someone; she was special, even if she wasn't magical.

When we arrived at the station, I raised up on my toes to look for him over the heads of others. There were people bustling about everywhere juggling cages and trunks, with mothers rushing about carrying forgotten items to the window of the train. A toad hopped by me with a young boy fast on its heels, but I paid no heed. My eyes were determined to find Sirius.

Instead he found me… or rather James found Lily, but I preferred to think of it the other way.

"Lily," James said, and he swung my sister around in a crushing hug as Sirius hung back behind him.

I smiled brightly at him, and waited for him to come to me, just as he did in all my dreams. And then he started forward and my pulse began to race, and I closed my eyes in expectation. My dream. It was going to happen. And he said, "Penny, right?"

My eyes flew open, and my stomach flipped over. "What?" I gasped.

"Your name. It's Penny, right? Nice to see you again, Penny," he said, and he patted me on the shoulder as though I were one of his mates. Then, he picked up my sister's trunk and started towards the train with it.

He didn't even remember my name. There was no kiss waiting. No future lover's arms to run into. None of my dreams were coming true today.

And my heart lay shattered on the platform. I was just plain old Petunia—not even that. I was plain old Penny. Nothing special, nothing magical, and no one loved me. But I wouldn't let them see me broken. I walked back to my parents' car quiet and numb inside.

* * *

And I resigned myself to knowing that's what life was and would always be. Nothing spectacular for me. I wouldn't have the romance that was hidden away in those books I snuck and read as a young girl. No one would come along to sweep me off my feet and love me. I would remain plain, unwanted Petunia, and that girl, well, she was nothing special.

* * *

I guess that's why I chose to marry my Vernon. He was everything opposite of a world where I wasn't wanted or accepted. He was strong and stable, and he had his feet firmly planted on the ground. He had goals and aspirations. He simply wanted a warm meal on his table after work and a clean house to come home to. And those were things which I could do, and do well. He didn't offer magical wonderful love, nor did he expect it in return.

It took a while, but I finally came to realise that Vernon and I—we were the normal ones. We were fine upstanding members of our community. We didn't boil toads or send owls or any of those uncommon and freakish things. I had a husband and, soon thereafter, a child of my own, whom I loved more than my own life.

I could almost pretend my sister and her mad world didn't exist… until the day her child arrived on my doorstep, and I feared history was about to repeat itself. He was a pretty child, dark where my Dudley was fair, and from the note that was left, I knew he'd be like them—his parents. He'd be "special" while my child was ordinary. He'd be attractive, while Dudley looked far too much like his father to be considered a pretty child by most.

But I was determined that my child would never know what it felt like to be second best. He would not grow up in the shadow of my sister's son. Of that, I was determined.


End file.
